Evening plans
by Daria234
Summary: Chuck/Bryce slash oneshot.  AU where they are a spy team and a couple.  A quiet evening as they get ready to go undercover to a formal gala. Some explicit descriptions of acts, don't like, don't read.


Author's Note: This is an AU where after the end of Season 2, Bryce and Chuck became a spy team. Written for a birthday fic.

* * *

Bryce sighed and leaned back into the couch, and for a minute Chuck just stared. Bryce sitting there, slouching really, in pajama pants and nothing else - it was almost like they were back in college, waiting impatiently for the new ep of Next Generation.

That night they would go to a black-tie gala to get the data off a personal electronic device of some dignitary guest, avoid being found out and tortured by the host's security team, and then turn over the data to a third party who was currently considered a 'friend' of the agency despite quite possibly being responsible for some very unfriendly acts toward agents in the past.

Favors and compromises and alliances with people you wish you didn't need. All the things Bryce hated about being a spy.

Chuck sat on the low coffee table, facing Bryce and getting a tired smile in return. It had been busy lately, and Chuck had never really gotten the chance to see how the work wore on Bryce until now.

"You still need to shave before you get dressed," Chuck pointed out, and Bryce nodded, not answering.

Chuck got up then and walked out, and for a second Bryce wondered if he should chase, give an apology; Chuck didn't leave his family behind to join him so he could act sullen about an ordinary mission.

But Chuck came back with supplies. He stood in front of Bryce, between his knees, and Bryce sat up. But Chuck pressed a ball of foamy shaving cream into his hand, gave Bryce a goofy smile, and pressed Bryce's chest so that he again leaned back. The touch was light, a warm palm against Bryce's skin, and it was a caress, not an order.

Chuck covered Bryce's five-o'clock shadow with the shaving cream, rubbing it smoothly and evenly across. Bryce closed his eyes and let Chuck work his fingers across his cheeks and jaw and neck. It was soothing, and he wished they were doing this tonight instead of working.

Chuck could see the tense shoulders loosen just slightly (not all the way - it was never all the way). He knew what Bryce was thinking, that it would be easier to just come up with his own plan, to just find another way - riskier but more ingenious - to get what was needed from the 'friend.' But Bryce was on his best behavior since he didn't want to be reassigned off of Chuck's team, and Chuck, even though he knew Bryce hated it, was relieved to have someone else - someone bigger - to tell Bryce not to be quite so bold and self-sufficient. He really did love Bryce, but it was true what Casey had told him: Bryce liked to do whatever he thought was best and justify it to his superiors after the fact.

Okay, what Casey actually said was, "Be careful, Bartowski. You can be a real moron sometimes, but Bryce is a cocky bastard who thinks the rules don't apply to him, and that's way worse." And it was true, really: Bryce did every aspect of his job beautifully, iexcept/i for following protocol.

"I'm using the razor, now," Chuck said, warning him, but Bryce just gave a small nod of his head and waited, eyes still closed. Chuck savored seeing him like this. Open, trusting, passive even. Putty in Chuck's fingers as Chuck leaned over him, hovered in his space.

He ran the razor in short slow lines, leaving squares of smooth shaven skin that he brushed with his fingers after as if checking his work. Chuck was especially cautious around the Adam's apple, and on the angle of the jaw, not wanting to nick the skin. Bryce opened his eyes in the middle, looked right in Chuck's eyes, and managed to smile without moving his mouth. Bryce's version of thank you, his reminder to Chuck that he knew full well Chuck was just trying to make an annoying night a little better.

When he was done, he ran a hot wet washcloth across Bryce's face and neck, and Bryce hummed just a little at the warmth. Then he rubbed aftershave onto Bryce's face, a lotion not a harsh splash, smelling of citrus and woodsy spices. He wondered how Bryce could still look so clean and young, even as Bryce's eyes were less innocent, a little more weary and wise.

When he was done, he let his hands linger on Bryce's face as he sat on the coffee table once more. He let his thumb find Bryce's lip, relaxing there like a resting place.

Bryce kissed it and smiled. "You know, Chuck, I never liked shaving."

"Really?"

"Always found it annoying. The constant maintenance, just so you fit some notion of sophisticated presentation of self."

"Ah. You don't like shaving because for once actually need to make some small effort to look like an action hero." Chuck smiled. It wasn't true - Bryce worked hard for all his 'effortless' characteristics - but it was fun to tease.

Bryce just smirked back, predatory but playful. "I said I ididn't/i like it. When it was just to look presentable. But now I like it just fine, since the purpose is not to scrape up your delicate thighs with beardburn."

Chuck flashed (and not because of the Intersect) on a memory of the night before last, when Bryce had slowly - so slowly it was cruel - worked his way up Chuck's thighs, kissing and biting a trail until he finally sucked Chuck's balls before moving to the tip of his prick, and starting the torture by slowness all again.

Chuck tried not to look flustered. "How very considerate of you, Bryce."

Bryce took his hand and said, "What I meant was, stuff that was a chore, when I think about how I'm doing it for you - doesn't seem all that bad."

Chuck gave him a smile, shy but alluring, a little gleam in the eye: it was identical to the one that made a college freshman as cynical as Bryce fall for him. The smile that made him fall so hard he would have run terrified if he weren't even more afraid of inot/i having Chuck.

He pulled Chuck's hand quickly, bring Chuck's whole body closer, let Chuck close the rest of the distance so that they were kissing, Chuck caressing his fragrant neck with one hand while holding tight to Bryce's hand with the other. Chuck was slender and goofy and kind but he was a large man, large enough that when he leaned over Bryce, it felt like being covered, wrapped in something earthy and sugary, balance and energy all in one.

"You know, Chuck, we still have a while before we need to get dressed," he said.

Chuck grinned. "And if we're a little bit late... well, it's probably not the end of the world." He kissed Bryce again, more push than pull this time, and slipped his fingers into the loose waistband of Bryce's pants, crooking them with impatience.

Bryce parted just long enough to grin back and say, "Worth it either way."

.


End file.
